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The Crow's Foot
The sign above the glowing door is an elderly witch, a crow perched on her shoulder and another at her feet. The tavern blows colored smoke from the chimney, filled with laughing faces. A hag's cottage once stood there. The building is 3 storied from the outside, rambling and huge with a black slate roof and stained glass windows decorated with bizarre designs. When the Inn is entered, a few things are evident. There are many beast heads in the bar, with 5 mezzanines built on top of each other, one filled with bookshelves. It is much bigger than it is on the outside. Rare Radamann rugs cover the floor, and banners of long-dead kingdoms fill the walls. There are endless bottles behind the bar, that are difficult to be identified, and a massive fireplace dominates the room. There is an unusually moving corner table, and the owner, Brachio Thurman, has three eyes and a shock of white hair. If asked about his race, he dismisses it, calling his home "Oh, some long-gone land, it's unmapped." He is generally friendly. The table at the corner is a mimic, who is friendly and plays chess. The local townsfolk often visit the Crow's Foot as well. The regulars of the tavern include: Regulars: 1) Dragonborn guild heiress (F) – Spoiled and demanding. Fantastically wealthy in currency not accepted on this continent. 2) Human ranger (M) – Wendigo hunter. Wears a necklace of snow elf ears. Intense PTSD. 3) Amazonian warrior (F) – Hunter of whales in the great north. Carries oil and whale fat for dark rituals. Head-over-heels in love with PC. Will offer ambergris totem-egg to female PC (20% chance of feeble, albino male child. Gestation of 3 months before hatching). Will attempt to castrate male PC and initiate him into rites of priesthood as foreplay. (Completed ritual results in immediately gaining a level of Death Domain Cleric, at the cost of 1 hit die.) 4) Demon hive-lord (M) – Births 1d3 stirges every day. Doting father to his mindless, disposable children. Will occasionally eat them. 5) Human evocation wizard (F) – Kind, but kind of a doormat. Incredibly bad acne. Is having issues with paying her student loans. 6) Iron Knight (M) – Never takes off his armor or helmet. Centuries old, by his language and mores. 7) A floating glass sphere (None), containing a writhing mass of teeth and eyes and red muscle. Communicates via jolly pictograph projections. 8) Owlbear (???) wearing a schoolgirl uniform. 9) Xanathar, in his full Beholder form. 10) An old veteran, who has involuntary telepathy that pushes his visions on others. Visions: # Immaculate legions of red and white arranged in the grass. Shield lines, snapping banners and sun-glint spears opposite the teeming hordes of deathless wildmen. # Rotten boots on the muddy gray edge of a river vomiting forth the damned. Shapes in the mist, just out of reach. # Swords plunged into the earth and left to rust. Kings hung from their castle walls. Men, brothers all, marching home. # Flooded tunnels and lightless catacombs, chamber to chamber. Stone pressing down from above, bones stabbing up from below, darkness swallowing up men and spitting back their echoes. # Armies shambling out of time – Before one has been defeated, another appears. Choking red dust. Maps pinned to shantytown walls, evacuation routes drawn in blue. # Stained glass skyships above pink sandstone towers, tendrils plucking men from the streets. The Whores’ Army, the Cloud-Kings, the Elephant-Men. # Mangrove swamps choked in red flowers. Men drowning on the air. Toothless mercenaries # Glaciers like blue tongues, mountains like broken gray gums, sunlight like all the terrible teeth. It is too cold. There is too little food. There are too many mouths. # A fox tearing out a man’s throat, squirrels dropping stone blades from their branches, porcupines breaking the front lines. Rats with blood-bead eyes and yellowed teeth. Pattering paws on the floorboards above. # Fallen knights in black iron ride broken-boned steeds. The mountains bleed. The trees weep. # Dead men sewn back together. Carcinogenic growth in the head heart and belly; the foot grows fewer. White eyes with crowns of fire. # Amoebid war machines dot the landscape, a battlefield like a confectioner’s jellies. Rainbow bubbles embedded with bones and armor and scraps of masonry, piping their childlike songs. # Prayer-soaked men breaking fast under the bleary gloom of the inner sun. A ragged column through fungal rainforest. Formless demons seep up from cracked charcoal soil. # Nobles on the hillside, slaves holding sun umbrellas. Barbecue and picnic lunches. “Very good, very good!” cries the fat one. # Dirt-smeared children with kettle helms and wooden swords. A pale piper with a head like a stuck pig, marching out to the Hills, the Hills, the Hills. # Dripping candles, scroll dust, inkspatters. Shelves up to the heavens, rows out to the horizon. Books burning, librarians throwing themselves into the fires. # Men and women aglow with power, aloft on wings of will. Balls of fire, lances of thunder, crumbling earth and lashing rain. Gunpowder saints and cutter’s tools. # Bloody coral ridges above stinging saltwater, tropical waves awash with rotting fruit and garbage. Carrion gulls keening, sand-tiger sharks circling. # Jackboots and goose-steps. Cellar rendezvous, bottles of alchemists fire. Firebrands. Pamphlets. Wheels and their turning. Hope. # Running through a moonless night. Men strung up among the trees. Long, long arms. Fingers with too many joints. 11) An adventurer who will point to a leopard on the walls, saying he slayed it in a long-dead city called Tamoachan. He tells stories about evil gods, and treasure, and points to a beautiful silver necklace he has on. He says that their, one can become a Veiled Lord by taking the Veil of the Veiled Lords in The Hidden Shrine of Tamoachan. Special Visitors: # Cultist looking for willing virgins to sacrifice to his dark god. Down on his luck. Will pay handsomely for tips and even more for volunteers. # A golem pierced through with a rusted harpoon. Faded paint on its body shows a flowery drawn in a child’s hand. # A naked woman, covered in psychotropic snails. Speaks to angels and dead relatives. # Three traveling dwarf merchants selling hair care products. 1 bottle containing 20 uses sells for 5gp and is guaranteed to keep lice out of hair, with a 1-in-3 chance of causing beard growth per use. # A masked noble and their servants and bodyguards. Is attempting to avoid an arranged marriage. Thinks the Crow’s Foot is quaint. # A quiet man who had his ears, nose, and the tips of his fingers cut off long ago. # A red oni with a hole where his heart would be. He’s drinking the Crow’s Foot dry and won’t leave. # Two human historians, arguing like an old married couple about antiquated politics Knowledgeable on anything in the region over a few centuries old. # A band of street cats, led by a one-eyed calico. They register as magical. # A herd of 1d4 + 2 albino deer, standing on their hind legs. They do not speak, and pay in human baby teeth. # A haggard-looking drow woman and her young daughter. Will approach party begging for money for passage west. Transporting a chained-up coffin. # A Knight of the Thimble and his three stalwart beagles. On a quest to seek his lady love. # A thorny, dark-barked dryad. Shrikes nest in her branches and impale tavern mice on them. Traveling to watch the blood sports. # A man wearing a turtle-shell helmet, drinking tea from a bowl. 1-in-3 chance of attacking someone with a metal club during the course of the evening. # An ooze, wearing a human skin. Will vehemently deny it is an ooze. Claims to be pregnant: fetus is a dead calf. # A blemmeyes from the far south, dressed in leopard hides. He seeks the top of the world. # A rogue meme. The phrase passes from person to person during the night until the entire bar is infected. # A bloodstained stone altar, carried by bands of woodland creatures. Offerings of meat and liquor burn away. # A traveling judge, hunting a murderer. A criminal-in-reform, still in shackles, is acting as his assistant. # A priest of Most Harmonious Union, who will attempt to marry party members to his acolytes – will not discriminate by gender. Undoing a marriage of Most Harmonious Union requires a trip to a Temple of Serendipitous Divorce, which is hundreds of miles from wherever you are. Random Events: # Reps from the KMU (Kobold Miner’s Union) Local 543 are accepting donations and volunteers for the widows and orphans benefit dinner. # A new myconid-made spore-ale has been added to the drink list, and side effects are cropping up. # Mysterious bloodstain on floor refuses to go away. # It’s cleaning day, and Someone found some contraband stuck underneath a table # Angry customer causing a fuss. # The cat takes a liking to a PC. It keeps bringing them dead things. # A horrible storm has hit, and the crowd is skittish and reluctant to leave. # Traveling cleric left pamphlets on all the tables, is possibly still evangelizing at people. # A clown has appeared in the Crow’s Foot. His intentions are unknown. # An anchor falls through the roof. # It’s an obscure local holiday today – time for weird hats, weird beer, and weird sausages. # It’s migration season for the dinosaur herders, and rival caravans have stopped in town. # Pixies steal booze, declare Independent Pantry Republic # A farmboy with a sword and an old man enter. They are both criminals. # Paladin customer left behind enchanted sword last night. # Depressed social worker refuses to leave. # The taxman cometh. # Mellified man found in a sealed ale cask. # Salamander infestation in the fireplace. # SUN’S OUT GUNS OUT – INTERPRET THIS HOWEVER YOU WISH Menu: Honeyed-roasted chicken, roast onions dripping with brown gravy, bread trenchers, lots of wine. Thick sweet soup made with pumpkins, platters of ribs, roasted in a crust of garlic and herbs. mutton stew with heels of black bread, and a small slice of pork pie Suckling pig, pigeon pie, turnips soaking in butter, and honeycombs skewers of red meat in a trencher boar’s meat cooked with mushrooms and apple oxtail soup; summer greens tossed with pecans, grapes, red fennel, and crumbled cheese; hot crab pie; spiced squash; and quails drowned in butter Rooms: The bartender motions up and says "Just grab one. It always has what we need". Floor 2: Floor 2 is a library circularly surrounding the mezzanine, but with books only on ancient, long-dead languages. A few Doppelgangers in their true form lounge around, reading. Floor 3: Floor 3 largely consists of small rooms that are of lesser quality, straw beds and no furniture. Floor 4: There is a single door here, marked with the Heroes names in solid gold etched into mahogany. Inside the room is a five-room headquarters. Floor 4's rooms are lovely and well-appointed.